


Too Much Woman for One Aussie

by CavannaRose



Series: Assorted DC Fics [2]
Category: Suicide Squad (Comics), The Flash (Comics), Vixen (Comics)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Forgive my little family fantasy, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex, crackship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 18:17:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5880913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavannaRose/pseuds/CavannaRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Forgive me for I cannot stop crackshipping. Ostrander's Suicide Squad run ruined my life. <3 <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It took her less than three blocks to lose Turner. He was getting more and more curious about where she went in her time off. It was really starting to irritate her. Still, League of Assassins trained or not he didn’t stand a chance following her if she didn’t want him to. Ten minutes later she unlocked a door in downtown New Orleans.

“Couldn’t stay away, eh Sheila? Naw worries, tha ladies can’t resist Ol’ Digger fer long.” The arrogant grin belied the undercurrent of pleasure that warmed the Rogue’s greeting. She laughed, kicking off her shoes and moving across the entranceway in a flurry of motion. 

He’s surprised to find her perched on the arm of his chair, fingers running through his messy hair. “Why don’t you show me those skillful bedroom moves that keep the ladies coming, and I’ll decide for myself?”

He’s gobsmacked, staring at her bemused expression for almost a full minute before he springs up, half carrying her to his bedroom. At this moment he didn’t care if this was some kind of trap, you didn’t have to tell George Harkness to take his pants off for a gorgeous piece of woman flesh twice.

He laid her out on his surprisingly tasteful comforter, the fabric soft against her skin as he slowly stripped her down. He moved to kiss the exposed flesh and she halted him, a barely decipherable curse slipping from his lips. “Not until you’re naked too…” The heat in her voice convinces him that this was no game, and faster than that bastard the Flash himself Digger was naked and poised above the luscious Vixen again.

He spent a moment just running his hands over the flawless dark skin, warming her in the slight chill of the February air. He trailed kisses down the curve of her hipbone, sliding his rough palms beneath her arse, lifting her slightly. He savoured the startled gasp from her as he tasted the damp place between those silky thighs,  a grunt of approval escaping him as she spread further.

He coaxed and teased at her flesh, expertly manipulating her body as she shuddered beneath them. Her breath caught, released in shuddering little sighs of sound that had him rock hard with need. Slowly he dragged himself up her body, the bad of his thumb strumming her clit as he slowly entered her. 

Ever tightening muscle and desperate whine from her body begged him moreharderfasterdeeper but this was a once in a lifetime opportunity and he wasn’t passing it up. Torturously slow he stroked her, pushing her so close to the precipice and then pulling back again. Leaning down he scraped his teeth over her breast, worrying the nipple slightly, causing the mewl of distress to cut off in a low throaty moan.

Her hands fluttered up his arms, gripping the corded muscles of his shoulders. With frenzied need she places spastic little kisses up his arm, ending in a firm bite on his shoulder. He grunts again, her teeth were bloody sharp! Gripping her hair lightly he tugs her head away, catching her lips with his own, devouring her, the dusky taste of herself on his lips and tongue. 

Finally he grants her less than silent pleas, picking up the pace, thrusting deep, as if he was trying to go through her. She keens, moans, her body shivering and spasming as she shatters, spiralling over the cliff of release. Teeth gritted with determination, trying to make it last, he finally gives up after a minute more, shuddering with release before collapsing onto the bed beside her.

Catching his breath, he finally voices the question that was on his mind. He had to know. “So… What was that fer?”

She smiles, sliding out of the bed and slowly dressing as he watches her, the heat in his eyes dampened now that he was spent. “Waller’s been in a foul mood all day, you’ve served your term on the Squad and she’s filled out the paperwork for your release, you get handed your walking papers tomorrow.”

“Y'know, we could still do this… After I’m out…”

Mari shakes her head with a laugh. “No we can’t, once you’re free we’re back on opposite sides of the law. Despite the fact that you’re a lewd, arrogant ass, I like you the way you are, Digger. I wouldn’t ask you to change, and you wouldn’t even if you said you would.” With one last, lingering kiss she leaves him.

The next day he saunters in to Belle Reve, he’s usual swagger a little more forced than usual, his head full of strange thoughts. Out of the corner of his eye he catches sight of that Turner bloke cozying up to Vixen, whispering fiercely into her ear, a hand on her forearm. His eyes flick to the irritated look on the sheila’s face, and his decision is made.

He walks past the motley group of villains and wild card heroes to where Deadshot was deep in conversation with Waller. He never much cared for the bastard anyway, galah still hadn’t forgiven him for losing his costume that one time. Pulling back his fist he slammed it into Floyd Lawton’s face, hollering something that no one was able to make out.

Turner and Flagg dragged the men apart. Puffing and red faced with exertion, he stands before a very pleased-with-herself looking Waller. She waved a handful of paper before his face before shredding it deliberately. “You messed up big time, Down Under, just like I knew you would.”

He shrugged out of Flagg’s hold, bumping into Mari as he rejoined the Squad for the mission brief. The model/adventurer looks down at her hand, finding a small key with an apartment number inscribed in it had been slipped into her palm. She darted her eyes over to Boomerang who winked saucily at her.


	2. Getting Domestic

He stood in the doorway, staring at the curve of her back as she hunched over the glowing laptop, chewing her lip. His gaze drifts past her, noting the untouched bagel beside her. He looked at his watch. “Oi! Sheila! It’s nearly ten a’clock, have ya even left tha’ chair since I went out this mornin?”

She turns, blinking owlishly, rubbing her eyes, a sheepish expression on her face. “Well… I suppose that depends on your definition of leaving the chair…”

He marches into the room, grabbing her by the wrist and dragging her from the chair. Legs shaky from lack of circulation she stumbles against him. Digger’s irritation at the foolish wench evaporates in an instant and he wraps his arms around her, holding the soft figure against him. He nips her neck, eliciting a squeak of protest. “Yer would be clever not tah lie tah me, miss.”

She shivered at the threat in his voice. They might have something resembling love between them, but it was moments like this that she remembered he was a criminal, and a killer. “I was working on my speech for the Animal Rights rally…”

Digger growled, pushing away from her a little too roughly. She fell to the floor with a cry. “Thought I told yer that yer weren’t goin’ there.” 

She crossed her arms, glaring up at him, not trusting her legs to hold her up yet. “And I thought I told you that you were my lover, not my damn keeper.”

He pulls her up, shaking her in frustration. “If’n yer can’t be trusted tah eat food left out fer yer, I ain’t lettin’ yer wander way off beyond tha black stump all by yer lonesome. Just dash it from yer thoughts.”

She tries to shake him off, unsuccessfully. He backs her up into the room, tipping her onto the bed beside the desk. Trapped between his muscular arms, she stares up into his angry brown eyes. She sighs, closing her eyes, slumping in defeat. George Harkness was not known for being a reasonable man, and right now the best path would be to give in. 

His rough hand cups her chin, raising her gaze back to meet his own, eyes searching. That arrogant smirk she knew so well crossed his lips as he saw his victory. “There, that’s a good girl.” The warmth in his voice appeased her, even though she knew it shouldn’t. He bent to catch her lips with his own, his kiss starting soft, but becoming more demanding. His hand drifted from her chin to the back of her head, mouth slanting across hers.

He pulled away, his brows drawing together sternly. “There yer go distractin’ me agin. Get yer arse inta tha kitchen. I’ll rustle yer up some tucker, an yer gonna eat it. Gotcher?” She rolls her eyes but lets him drag her into the kitchen. She perches at the breakfast bar, a look of bemusement on her face. He really was a handsome bugger. 

The concentration on his face as he pieced together a meal from the leftovers in the fridge was precious to her. Though it was disconcerting how he sat across from her and watched her eat every bite. She pushed the plate away. “I couldn’t eat another bite.”

He shook his head, getting up and tossing her over his shoulder with a grin. “That’s it! Yer forfeit fer tha evenin’ cuz yer couldn’t finish!” She giggled, making a weak bid for escape as he dragged her back to the bedroom.


	3. All In The Family

Home, tired after a long day of photoshoots and interviews she makes it back to her condo. It takes her two tries to get the door open because someone had left their filthy boots in the way. She grumbled in irritation, kicking the large black boots towards the closet. Mari tried not to look at the mud-crusted footprints on her nice wood floor… beside the bootmat. The sound of sports on the television comes through from the living room, and she avoids it, heading straight for the kitchen. She’d only snap right now. 

In the kitchen she feels her blood begin to boil. Dishes with crusted on food sat on the sink, just above the dishwasher, which was open and mostly empty. She takes a deep breath, seeking calm as she opens the garbage can to scrape off a plate. Here was the last straw. No bag in the bin, and someone had tossed fast food wrappers inside. With a low growl she stomps into the living room, her attention fixing on her lover’s son. Unceremoniously she drops the garbage can in the young man’s lap.

“Owen,” she says, a dangerous rumble in her voice, “Do you see a problem with this picture?” 

The younger Captain Boomerang peers up at her, his brow wrinkling in confusion, sensing a trap. “Um… someone didn’t put a bag in the bin?”

“Yes, just like someone didn’t scrape their plate, load the dishwasher, or put their dirty damn boots on the mat.” She leans close, growling. “Someone should fix that.”

“Well babe,” he gives her his most winning smile, “I guess since you usually do it when you get ho-urrk!” Lightning quick reflexes of the mamba snake activate, and Vixen has ahold of the startled speedster before he can process it.

“Listen close, kid, because you apparently are very, very confused. I tolerate a certain amount of bullshit from your dad because he is incredibly attentive in the bedroom, and at my age a woman responds to that with a certain level of affection. Do not for one second assume that any of that indulgence applies to you. He may have convinced me to let you crash here for now, but you’re continued presence relies entirely on my good will, and  I am not known for my patience. I am, on the other hand, known to be the someone who once lost her temper and ripped the arms off of a man.”

Owen gulped, pupils dilating in fear. “I… I’ll clean up right away, ma’am.” 

She smiles, a humourless flash of teeth. “See that you do.” She stalks out of the living room, the bang of her bedroom door echoing loudly in the sudden quiet. 

Owen turns to the recliner, his father peeking out from behind it where he had hidden before Mari had entered. “Thanks for defending me there, dad.”

Digger shakes his head at his son. “Didja hear tha sheila? She’da tore me tah shreds!”

“No kidding, she’s crazy!” Owen gathers up the discarded beer bottles, nervously tidying up in an effort to appease the woman.

“Mebbe…” Harkness grins at the younger man. “But ya should see her in tha nick…”


	4. Settled In

She sat on the couch, computer in her lap and a small smile on her face. Ostensibly she was working on the newest design for her clothing line, but mostly she was watching the two men sitting on the floor by her coffee table. Heads close together, one a bright shock of ginger, the other starting to grey, they didn’t even notice.

“Naw lad, yer gotta sharpen tha edges with tha grain of tha metal! Naw wonder yer razer ‘rangs are shite! Here, watch carefully ya bleeding galah…”

Mari grinned, though perhaps not the politest, his voice was warm with affection as he carefully went over the steps with his son, for the fourth time that morning. Of course, the smirk that the young man was wearing hinted that he was baiting his father anyways.

She sighed. Having the pair of them under her roof made her life hectic, and dangerous. Despite their protestations of innocence, the two men were criminals, and if any of her friends found out… It wasn’t her nature to lie to those close to her, but she’d been keeping this secret for a long time. Only J’onn knew.

A shadow fell across her face and she came out of her thoughts, looking up at the rough Aussie in front of her. “Woolgathering, sheila?”

“My name’s not Sheila.” A grin crossed her face as Owen made a groaning sound from the other side of the table.  So it was kind of dopey that they made this exchange several times a day, she thought it was cute, and her handsome lover indulged her odd sense of amusement. He pushed her computer from her lap and dragged her up against his hard body, kissing her with surprising gentleness.

“Don’t suppose yer wanna make dinner fer the lad an’ I?” She laughed, pulling away to punch him lightly in the arm. “In the sixth months you’ve been here have you ever actually seen me cook?”

Digger sighed. “No. Here I was hopin’ ta have a nice, domestic sheila takin’ care o’ my needs an’ keepin’ house, an instead I get shackled with a supermodel. Them’s the breaks I guess.” She let out a noise of protest at his teasing, trying to untangle from around him to properly show her displeasure, but he was laughing and scooping her up into his arms. “Not so fast, my pretty little baggage, if yer ain’t gonna feed me one way, I got another hunger yer can satisfy.” 

He leered down at her and she scowled. “If you think that all those insults are getting you a ticket into my bed, you’ve got another thing coming koala-humper.” Further vitriol was cut off as he pressed a fierce kiss to her lips, teeth and tongue working as her lips parted and he claimed her mouth. She felt her limbs turn to jelly under his expert ministrations and sighed. 

He pulled away, and she found her arms going around his neck, clinging in protest. A knowing gleam filled his eyes. “Owen, there’s some glim in Mari’s purse, make yerself scarce fer awhile, that’s a good lad.” Owen made a dramatic gagging sound, making himself scarce with surprising speed.

“There.” He cleared off the coffee table with a sweep of his arm, setting her down on it and slowly starting to strip off her clothes. “Now yer don’t have ter worry about having lost. This ain’t gonna be in yer bed.”


	5. Cramps

Digger sauntered into Vixen’s flat like he owned it, a winning smile on his face. About four steps in he paused, confusion sweeping across his expression. Despite the fact that it was the middle of the day, his sheila was in bed, wrapped in blankets, clutching something desperately to her side. He took another hesitant step.

“Vixie… sheila…?” A pained moan escaped the blanket cocoon. In a heartbeat he was at the side of the bed, kneeling close and tugging the sheets free. Vixen squeezed her eyes shut, clutching her hot water bottle closer. Concerned now, he tugged on her arm.

“Sheila? Wha’s wrong wit yer? Are yer sick? Did sommat do this ter yer? Can I kill him?” His voice cracked, desperation colouring his tone. Finally the woman opened her eyes, shoving at him weakly.

“Go ‘way. I’m not sick, I just have cramps and I don’t need to deal with your shit today.” Painfully she turned her back on him, tugging the blankets back over herself.

He rocked back onto his heels, shocked. He wasn’t used to being so readily dismissed… at least not by her. A flash of irritation lit his eyes, but he stood, running a calming hand over his face. This was something he could fix, he watched movies and shite where they dealt with this. He stalked out of the room, leaving the miserable female alone.

An hour later he had returned, a brown paper bag in one hand and a plastic one in the other. Dismissively he tugged the blankets off Vixen again and relieved her of her hot water bottle, eliciting a string of rather creative curses. He merely smiled at her.

“Naw worries, luv. I got sommat better fer yer.” He opened the plastic bag, pulling out an electric blanket. Spreading it over her with a flourish he plugged it in. “There, tha’ll warm yer back up in a mo.”

Moving back into the kitchenette he produced a small chocolate cake, liberally decorated, and a pair of steaks. “Yer need good red meat ter raise yer iron back up, an th’ chocolit is fer ter tide yer over while I cooker. It’ll raise yer mood enuff ter git yer outter the bed, neh?”

He gave her his most charming grin. “Now come off, luv. Eat yer treat an’ then go fer a rinse off, supper’ll be ready by th'time yer done.”


End file.
